


Just What the Doctor Ordered

by Silent_So_Long



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Birthday, Crack, Food, Funny, Gen, Humor, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-27
Updated: 2011-08-27
Packaged: 2017-10-23 02:51:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/245482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silent_So_Long/pseuds/Silent_So_Long
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>McCoy buys Kirk a cake he really shouldn’t have done.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just What the Doctor Ordered

**Author's Note:**

> Written in honour of the lovely Chris Pine's 31st birthday (haha, I'm a month older than him!!!). Posted [here at the jim and bones comm](http://jim-and-bones.livejournal.com/469093.html)

Leonard McCoy strode through the main market place on Danube VI, hastily scanning the wares on display. He knew that he had very little time left before the birthday dinner he’d promised he’d treat Kirk to later that evening; time was rapidly running out for the good doctor. He cursed himself yet again for leaving the requisite birthday purchases so late. Usually he wasn’t quite so tardy and even prided himself on getting things done before anyone else.

He grumbled to himself and lingered over a carved figurine of an angel, rich red wood shimmering and warm in the light of the Danubian setting sun. He ran long fingers over the smooth surface of the wings, and decided to purchase the figurine. Even though he doubted the captain believed in angels, McCoy thought it a nice gesture anyway, to have one of the famed celestial beings watching over Kirk on his many voyages.

He quickly paid for the required angel, and made one more stop before he had to leave. He was a little dubious about the validity of the next market stall holder, as the small wizened old lady too closely resembled the mythical witches of old for his liking. He had little time to worry about witches, however, for the doctor knew he had long outstayed his welcome at the market. He needed to return to the Enterprise before Kirk and the rest of the crew missed his presence.

Later, he would regret being in such a rush, as things soon transpired to spiral out of all control ...

*~*~*

Jim Kirk strode into McCoy’s quarters, smiling at the food that the doctor had managed to procure in honour of his birthday. He took in the sights of the roast beef dinner for two, accompanied by delicious and sugary cupcakes and a large birthday cake that dominated the whole spread. He settled down at the table and reached for a pink cupcake hungrily. A sharp crack sounded, accompanied seconds later by a sharp and shooting pain radiating up the captain’s arm from the vicinity of his wrist. McCoy’s hand dropped to his side from where he’d slapped the captain.

“Hey! Bones,” Kirk whined, sounding more like a child than the fully grown, 31 year old man he was supposed to be. “What was that for?”

“Present first, food later,” McCoy announced, severely, as he tried to mask the smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth by hiding it with a frown.

Kirk pretended to pout, even as he stared curiously at the perfectly gift wrapped box that McCoy then presented to him with an understated flourish. He slowly unwrapped it, savouring the crinkling paper and the fragile way it separated beneath his fingertips. He tried to ignore the growls of hunger that rumbled in his stomach, aided by the delicious smells wafting up from the table in front of him. His attention was diverted back to his gift, when the wrapping paper finally slid away, revealing a box inside. He split the cardboard and smiled in surprise at the beautifully carved angel figurine inside.

“Thanks, Bones,” he said, as he stroked the pads of his fingertips over one of the angel’s wings.

“It’s nothing, really. I just thought it’d watch over you, might give you some luck,” McCoy said, gruffly, trying to hide his smile at the pleased grin the captain was directing towards him.

Kirk opened his mouth in an attempt to speak further about the gift, yet he never got the chance. The largest cake on the table suddenly scuttled to the side, movement almost imperceptible yet still caught by both men at the table.

“Did you see that?” Kirk asked, anyway, hoping against hope that he hadn’t run mad yet.

McCoy frowned and was about to speak when the cake moved yet again, launching directly for Kirk’s throat. The captain tipped backwards from his seat, thrashing madly and grappling at thick yellow frosting and vanilla flavoured sponge. Gobbets of frosting and raspberry jam flew everywhere, yet still the cake kept up its attack on Kirk’s neck. McCoy leapt for Kirk, yanking great handfuls of sponge and frosting away from his captain, uniform soon liberally spattered with remnants of sticky cake. Kirk’s face was rapidly turning red from exertion, before finally, the cake was all but ripped away from him.

He lay on the floor, staring up at the ceiling, chest heaving with exertion and limbs akimbo on the carpet. McCoy checked Kirk over for injuries, practised hands skimming over Kirk and finding no injuries at all, bar the bruising on the captain‘s neck. He also managed to wipe the frosting from his hands onto Kirk’s already sugar encrusted skin.

“Where the hell did you get that cake from, Bones?” Kirk finally asked, when he’d re-learned how to breathe again.

“Danube VI,” McCoy replied, absently, as he checked the bruises on Kirk’s neck again. “There was an old lady there on a market stall. I got the cake from her.”

“The rest of that stuff didn’t come from her, did it?” Kirk asked, as he gestured towards the roast beef and the cupcakes.

“Nah,” McCoy replied, finally satisfied that the bruises were all the damage that Kirk had sustained. “You should be good to eat it; I bought the rest of it from several other stalls. She was the last one I went to, tucked away in a shadowed corner and had the cake I most wanted.”

He helped the captain to his feet, and waited for Kirk to settle back behind the table again. Kirk prodded the angel figurine ruefully and sighed.

“Guess this thing didn’t bring me the luck you hoped for, huh?” he said, tone just as rueful as his expression. “I wonder what was up with that cake?”

“I dunno,” McCoy replied, with a puzzled shrug. “The old lady I bought it from said that it should go to the person I liked the most. No, that’s not right. What she actually said was, that it would go FOR the person I liked most, not go TO.”

They exchanged a horrified glance, wondering if the old lady had merely slipped up or had genuinely meant to say what she had. It seemed a rather odd way to word her sentence, McCoy thought with hindsight. Kirk shrugged at McCoy finally; who knew what was in the minds of witches, after all?

“At least there’s still cake,” Kirk said, breezily, hoping to gloss over the situation by cramming one of the nearest cupcakes into his mouth.

McCoy grunted, but didn’t immediately respond. Instead he picked at his roast beef, only eating properly when Kirk dug into his own meal with gusto. The couple ate in silence, until Kirk finally leant back, rubbing one hand expansively over his lean stomach.

“That was good. Thanks, Bones,” he said, gratefully. “Although I might advise to never go to that market stall on Danube VI again.”

“You got that right,” McCoy agreed, readily.

Despite the debacle with the witch cursed cake, McCoy was secretly pleased with how the birthday meal had gone. It had served to put a smile back upon the captain’s face again, at least; a rare occurrence in recent weeks. McCoy knew that a good meal and a smile was just what the doctor ordered.

~~ the end ~~


End file.
